


Fire and Air

by Roselightfairy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assorted Ravenclaws, Female Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12460953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roselightfairy/pseuds/Roselightfairy
Summary: Ginny is fire, and Luna is air, and it takes them a long time to discover the balance between them. Chapters on the friendship between Luna and Ginny.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2015 on fanfiction.net.

When they are six years old, their mothers arrange a play date for them.  They are neighbors, after all, and they are the same age.  The idea is that the girls will play together while their mothers talk in the shade.

Ginny will remember it as a vague annoyance, a distraction from what she really wants to do.  She is fire, after all – life, brightness, vibrancy – and she wants to run, to fly, to chase her brothers on their brooms and make them play with her.

Luna wants to lie on the grass and look up at the clouds, finding shapes in them and making up stories.  She is air, is mystery and whispers and sometimes stillness, and Ginny is bored.

Ginny does somersaults and cartwheels in the grass; Luna watches her and blows dandelion fluff and hums to herself.

Afterwards, Ginny’s mother comes to fetch her and they part.  Molly brings Ginny home, raising her eyebrows about Luna’s mother and mumbling something about _nice people, but a bit . . . strange_.  There are no more play dates.

They see one another next when the Weasleys attend Luna’s mother’s funeral.  Luna and her father wear silver, sparks standing out against the black, because it was her mother’s favorite – the color of mystery, the color of _beyond_.  They wear it to honor the place she is now, the place that they’re sure is that _beyond_ she has always sought.  Luna thinks that she would like to seek the beyond as well.  There perhaps she can see her mother, and learn from her all the mysteries that are hidden in the universe, both in the places that she does not yet inhabit and those she does.

Ginny is nine, standing with her family in the back, wrapped in a heavy black shawl that is too big for her.  She sees Luna, and wonders at the faint smile on her face.  She doesn’t know that Luna has wept for weeks, that she has used up all her tears and finally decided to seek what joy she can find in the life that she still has left.  That she believes that this is what her mother would want.

After that, they don’t see one another again until they are eleven years old.

Their first year at Hogwarts, Luna sees Ginny in the Great Hall and in her classes and wonders about the girl with the brilliant hair and the pale, drawn face.  She remembers their time together, long ago.  She remembers the fires that burned in Ginny’s eyes and asks herself what has happened to dull them.  She doesn’t know what she can do to help, so she settles for smiling at Ginny when they pass one another in the corridors, leaving the occasional pressed flower in Ginny’s Transfiguration textbook in the hopes that it will make her smile.  She looks up creatures who can steal or restore flame, tries to slip cures into Ginny’s pockets and whisper offerings to them in her dormitory at night.

Ginny does not notice.  The truth is that her fire has not dulled, but it has been corrupted and it has turned itself inward.  The fire burns her insides clean, allowing Tom Riddle to slowly pour his poison into her ashy shell.  On the outside she is falling to pieces; on the inside she is empty of herself and full of him.  Luna’s gentle breeze only brushes by her.  It does not touch her, because the fire is in the wrong place.

(The truth is that air can feed fire, bring it to life – but only if the fire can be reached)

Although Tom Riddle is abolished, it takes some time to restore her fire.  The flames are still low-burning during her second year when the dementors are stationed at Hogwarts.  On the train, when she encounters them for the first time, Ginny experiences something she never has before: her fire is completely doused.

She doesn’t call it that, of course, but there’s an empty coldness in her body and it’s as though her life-force is completely gone.  As though nothing remains to keep her burning bright, as though rather than being scorched clean, her insides have been soaked with cold water and then frozen over.  The dementors bring Tom Riddle to the forefront of her mind, mock her shame, bring up the poisoned, sick feeling of being filled with him – in addition to the coldness that freezes her deep within.

When she is not around the dementors, some of her warmth comes back, but not all.  Still not all.

This is the year that the nickname “Loony” comes into fashion.  Last year, the problems with the Chamber left everyone fearful, and strange cures and protective measures were seen all over the school.  No one thought Luna was particularly odd – except for every now and then.  This year, though, her fellow students come to know and to scorn her.  They take her things and hide them, point at her wand behind her ear, at her Dirigible Plum earrings.  They call her “Loony Lovegood,” and the name sticks.

She has always liked to wander around the school at night, peeking out the windows at the moon and trying to find beauty in the dark and quiet.  This year, though, the dementors prevent her from doing that.  The first time she passes them alone, she feels them closing in on her, surrounding her.  Darkness pulls close around her and she can’t escape, can’t breathe, can’t drift away and find another place to occupy.  _Loony, Loony, Loony_ rings in her head, and she sees her mother’s life spark out over and over again, and she has nowhere to go.

When the dementors are around, Luna Lovegood is held down, forced to face the heaviness that drags so many people to the ground – the heaviness that has never restrained her before.  The dementors tell her what other people always have – that there is no _beyond_ , that the world has limited possibilities, that there is nothing more to be discovered – but when they tell it to her, she believes them.

The dementors don’t attack her, but they feed on her, and when she escapes and runs away from the entrance she collapses against a wall, shaking and pale.  She slides to the floor and sits there, breathing, until she’s able to find herself again.  Then she creeps quietly off to bed and dreams of her mother’s body.

She wakes up weeping into her pillow.  No one notices.

She stops wandering at night, for fear of seeing the dementors again, and no one notices that, either.

When Ginny faces the dementors, her fire is gone.  When Luna meets them, her soul is confined to the earth.

Their third year is when Ginny’s fire truly begins to return.  It’s a slow burn, so far, but coals spark in her eyes and her skin is hot to the touch.  Soon she will burst into flame again – bright and radiant.  She is only hovering on the edge of potential, waiting for the smothering ashes to blow away.

When she finds out that she’s missed her chance to take Harry to the Yule Ball, she wanders the halls aimlessly, trying not to feel empty inside.  Luna finds her standing in an empty corridor and asks her if she’s having trouble with Wrackspurts.

“Trouble with whats?”

“Wrackspurts,” explains Luna.  She flaps a hand in the air, trying to banish them.  “They get in the way of thought, make your brain blurry.”

“No,” Ginny sighs.  “I’m just disappointed.”

“Disappointed?”  Luna faces her earnestly; something in those large silver-gray eyes pulls at Ginny, and she finds herself telling all.

When she finishes, Luna nods slowly.  “I see.  Harry Potter seems like a lovely person.  But I’ve noticed him attracting a lot of Wrackspurts this year.”

Again with the Wrackspurts.  Ginny sighs, realizing it was a mistake to ask Loony Lovegood.  “Never mind.”

“Yes,” Luna says.  “I think not minding is a good idea.  Wait until the Wrackspurts have left his brain, and it becomes clear.  Wait until he can really think.”

Ginny, about to leave, freezes.  Turns back around.  “Wait, what?”

“If he is confused,” explains Luna, “then what he has for you will also be confused.  Find yourself – find your life, find your spark – and let him find his.  And then it will be right.  Whether it works or not, it will be right.”

Ginny realizes what Luna is saying.  She needs to live her life on her own terms, not to wait.  And so does Harry.  Only then can they find a real connection.

“Thanks,” she says, meaning it.  “I’ll do that, Luna.”

After the Yule Ball, Michael Corner asks her out.  He’s handsome and funny, and she says yes.  And at that moment, her coals burst back into flame.

From then on, when she sees Harry, her heart is calm.  She knows that if things are to work out, they will.  And if not, then she will move on and be happy and her life will be good no matter what.

On the Hogwarts Express, she is with him and Neville; they are searching for a compartment and they find one in which Luna is sitting.  Ginny winces at the way she looks; her magazine is upside down, her eyes crazy.  She almost feels the need to apologize for her association with her.

“There’s only Loony Lovegood in here,” she says.

Neville flinches back, mumbles, “Didn’t want to disturb . . .” and Ginny feels bad.  She knows how Luna looks, but she is a good person – and a lot saner than she looks.  So, as if to make amends to herself, she chides him.

“Don’t be silly,” she says; “she’s all right.”  And they join her in the compartment.

Luna is surprised when the door slides open; she’s gotten used to traveling on the Hogwarts Express by herself.  She tries to let it slide by her, leaves in the breeze, but it still hurts sometimes.  People don’t trust drifters like her.  But when she looks up at the compartment door and sees the magnificent, flame-wreathed figure of Ginny Weasley standing there, it all comes clear.

When they ask to come in, she nods.

Ginny cringes at the impression that Luna makes – although she takes a vindictive satisfaction in the knowledge that the company that he keeps has temporarily scared the pretty Cho Chang away from Harry.  She feels bad about thinking that moments later, though.  Resolves to continue giving Luna a chance.

That year, they gravitate towards one another.  Perhaps after her introduction to Harry, Luna feels more comfortable around her . . . or maybe Ginny has just started spending more time with Ravenclaws because of Michael.  Or maybe it’s their shared belief in Harry, in Dumbledore, uniting them against the rest of the school . . .

Ginny invites Luna to the defense meeting at the Hog’s Head.  She’s walking with Hermione when she catches sight of Luna and thinks of her.  She remembers hearing about her bold declaration to Harry, telling him that she believed him and trusted him.  She remembers Luna’s general honesty about her beliefs.  Perhaps it is her dreamy, airy nature – or perhaps she can just see more than anyone else.

Either way, she approaches her and tells her about the meeting of what will soon become the D.A.  Hermione raises her eyebrows skeptically at Ginny, but she knows they need people on their side and she just shrugs.

Luna’s eyes brighten when they tell her, and she nods eagerly.  It’s Ginny’s first sign that Luna might be more affected by people’s perceptions of her than she lets on.

They start becoming closer.  Ginny isn’t sure how it happens, but one day she realizes that Luna has become the first person to whom she goes to talk.  Maybe it’s because she uses her peculiar worldview to find strange ideas for Ginny’s predicaments – as though she has full access to the wind and can simply snatch a solution out of it, one so brilliant and crazy that it just might work.  Maybe it’s because she carries strange fruits and dried flowers in her pockets, and will rummage in them and offer Ginny some odd keepsake.  Or maybe it’s just because she’s an amazing listener and Ginny feels safe talking to her – as though whatever she says is simply being whisked away by the breeze, never to touch the ground again.

Luna sees Ginny burning ever brighter – in the D.A. meetings, shining white-hot; with flames leaping over her head and crackling gently in the corridors.  She basks in Ginny’s glow and breathes gently on her flames to keep them radiant and bold.  She has seen Ginny once before with no fire – and that is not a sight that should ever grace the world again.

They fight at the Ministry together, and end up in the hospital wing together afterwards, both immediately healed but staying for their friends.  They grow closer to Neville – a boy like the earth, with warmth in his smile and kindness in his eyes.  He does not trap Luna like the dementors: he lets her float as high as she needs to, but gives her a reason to come back down.  The three of them form an unbreakable bond.

The next year, they sit together in the train.  When a boy in Transfiguration jeers, “Loony Lovegood!” Ginny jabs her wand into his chest and snarls at him to _shut up before I hex you._   The Bat-Bogey Hex forms on her tongue; her eyes are an inferno and the boy backs down.

She squeezes Luna’s hand, and Luna feels the warmth travel down her arm.

When Harry asks her to the party as a friend, Luna feels lighter than air.  There – _there_ – is the proof that the world is so eager to have, the evidence that someone loves her, that someone cares for her –

Ginny hugs her tight when she hears, her smile warm, and Luna knows that Harry is not the first to think of her as a friend.

When he and Ginny finally get together, she returns the hug and the smile and presses a chip of crystal into her hand.  A fire agate.

Ginny looks it up later and grins.  Smiling comes easier than ever before, now that she’s with Harry, but this piece of stone is all Luna.  She hides it in her pocket and carries it with her every day.

But then Dumbledore dies, and Harry takes up the hero’s burden – as is his duty, of course, but it’s a duty the rest of the world decided for him, not one he picked for himself.  And Ginny doesn’t stop him, doesn’t hold him back.  But a sudden coldness aches deep within her.

After the funeral, Luna comes to find her.  She’s sitting with her back against a column, staring off into the distance.  Her flames are low, almost dulled to embers, and the fire agate is lying flat on her palm.

Luna slides down to sit beside her, folds her fingers around the stone.  Ginny turns to face her, her teeth clenched together and her eyes glassy.

Luna sits and waits.  Ginny will speak first – she needs to.

“It’s too much for one day,” she says finally, her voice trembling.  “The funeral – then this – He wants to save the world!” she bursts out.  “It’s not like I can fault him for breaking up with me for _that_ , can I?”

Luna doesn’t respond, but Ginny throws her arms around her and she holds her.  She holds her, exhales gentle breezes on her flames, coaxes them back to life.

When they are sixteen, they are fighting a war.  They and Neville hold tight to one another; hands, lives, spirits linked.  Neville is steady and strong, holding them together as the earth holds the roots.  Ginny blazes, lighting the way.  Luna is the wind – fanning Ginny’s flames, wrapping around Neville’s solid form, surrounding everything and open to all, impossible to pin down.

Until they do pin her down.

Until they capture her from a train and lock her in a dark cellar and hold her with that darkness pressing around her, close as a dementor, suffocating, alone –

But not alone.

Ollivander is her comfort, and she his, and she can’t float out of the cellar on the breeze, but she imagines she could, if she only tried.  She soars in the open air that is her mind; she tells him stories and listens to his; she keeps him alive and he keeps her sane, until the miracle arrives and she can feel the fresh air on her skin again.

And she and Ginny meet again on the field of battle, and neither of them is destroyed.  They are sisters – one of fire, one of air – and they fill one another up.  Ginny draws Luna in as a moth on the breeze; Luna fuels Ginny’s fire.  Together they burn bright; together they can soar.

Ginny is fire, and Luna is air, and they can survive apart, but together, they live.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny finds out that people are hiding Luna's things. She gets angry.

“They _what_?”

Ginny knew her voice was too loud – but frankly, she didn’t really care at the moment.  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Luna’s feet, clad in strange-looking sandals without socks _in the middle of November_.  She’d always just thought that Luna liked going without shoes, or that her feet didn’t get cold – but this –

“Did you hear me all right?” asked Luna, concerned.  “Maybe some Wrackspurts” –

“ _They take your things and hide them_?” Ginny said, far beyond humoring Luna’s odd beliefs when her physical health was at stake.  “They took your _shoes_ in the middle of _fall_?”

“Ginny,” said Luna seriously, “I can tell that you’re speaking in italics.  It’s not such a problem, really.  I like these sandals; they attract Toe-nipping Frostmoks.”  She wiggled her toes, which Ginny noticed were white with cold.  “And the shoes always turn up again in the end.”

“Do you even have socks?” asked Ginny incredulously.  “Please tell me you have socks; you’re just choosing not to wear them” –

“I have a few,” said Luna serenely.  “I just seem to have misplaced them somewhere.  I’m sure they’ll turn up eventually.”

Ginny practically growled.  “Come here,” she said, pulling Luna to the side of the corridor.  Bracing her back against the wall, she stripped off her shoes and socks.  The frosty air zinged against her feet, and she became even more determined to give them to Luna.  She dealt with this _every day_?

“Here, take these.”  Trying not to reveal that she was shivering, Ginny handed her shoes and socks over to Luna.

Who immediately handed them back.  “Oh, no, Ginny, you can’t go without shoes and socks.  Your feet will freeze!  I’m used to it.  I’ll be fine.”

“Compromise?” suggested Ginny.  She stuffed her bare feet back into her shoes (not without a stifled sigh of relief) but continued holding out her socks to Luna.  “This way we’ll both have warm feet.”

Luna seemed to ponder this, and then she smiled.  “That’s true,” she said.  She reached out.  “As long as you don’t mind, then . . .”

Before she could hand over the socks, Ginny realized that they had been on her feet all day.  “Here, let me clean them for you,” she offered, pulling out her wand.

But before she could utter a cleaning charm, Luna took the socks from her.  “You don’t need to do that,” she said.  “I find you can learn such wonderful things from previously-worn socks.  Your feet will be speaking through them.”  She bent down, unstrapping her sandals and pulling the socks on.  “Oh, they’re so lovely and warm.  Thank you so much, Ginny!”

The socks looked a little odd with Luna’s sandals, but this was _Luna_.  She wouldn’t care – and at least now her feet wouldn’t freeze.  As they started walking again, Ginny noticed that Luna was wiggling her toes and beaming, appearing perfectly happy.

Ginny, though, was not.

“Hermione,” she said that night in the common room.  “Can you help me with something?”

Hermione had been staring resolutely down at her book, not paying attention to anything else going on in the common room (such as Ginny’s ridiculous brother, who had picked up his daily grope-fest with Lavender Brown right on schedule).  When Ginny started talking, she jumped.  “Wha – oh, hi, Ginny.  What do you need?”

“Can you get me into the Ravenclaw common room?”

Ginny had been to the Ravenclaw common room a few times.  It was a nice place – large and open – but she could only get in with someone smart enough – or, Ravenclaw enough – to open the door for her.  When she’d been dating Michael, that hadn’t been a problem, but now . . .

Now Hermione looked up fully, blinking.  “The Ravenclaw common room?  What do you need with the Ravenclaw common room – and why would you need my help getting in; can’t you ask Luna?”

Ginny explained.

 “They _what_?” gasped Hermione, just as Ginny had done.

“I know!”  Ginny perched on the arm of Hermione’s chair, feeling her rage bubble up anew.  “She’s been wearing sandals for the last two weeks – no socks.”

“They actually take her things?”  Hermione’s eyebrows were rising higher and higher.  “In the winter, too?”

Ginny nodded grimly.  “And who else would have access to her things but people in her dormitory?  Meaning Ravenclaws.  Meaning that I need to go up there and teach them a lesson.”

“Ginny . . . what exactly are you planning to do?”

Ginny shrugged.  “I’m not exactly _planning_ anything. I figured, they’re Ravenclaws; if I go at it logically they’ll figure me out.  But if I storm in with my righteous Gryffindor anger . . .”

Hermione raised her eyebrows even higher, which Ginny wouldn’t have even thought possible.  “You do realize you’re about to just waltz into a common room filled with incredibly intelligent people who are clever enough to . . . to . . . hide things well enough that even Luna can’t find them, for instance.”

Ginny put her hands on her hips.  “Whose side are you on, here?”

Hermione pursed her lips, but put down her book, sliding a bookmark between the pages.  “So what was it you needed me for?”

“Their common room door only opens if you can correctly answer a question,” explained Ginny.  “I used to listen to them when Michael would let me in, and I’m hopeless.  I figured you could get me in.”

“Oh.”  She looked surprised for a moment.  “Oh, yes, I can help you with that.  I can go in with you, too, if you want.”

Ginny peered at her, curious at this sudden change of heart – but the reason for it came to her fairly quickly.  Part of it was that Hermione hated injustice.  That was the easy part to figure out.  But Ginny knew her well enough to see that she was also looking for an excuse to get out of the common room – to get away from Ron.

Ginny could understand such a desire; she felt it herself several times a day during summers and holidays.  So she grinned at Hermione.  “I’d love that – if you don’t mind challenging all those clever Ravenclaws, that is.”

“Oh, shush, you.”  But Hermione smiled back, stuffing her book into her bag.  “You need someone to watch your back anyway.”

Ginny led the way to Ravenclaw Tower; Hermione had never been there before.  Ginny knew where it was, as she had visited Michael quite often last year, and Luna a few times this year.  But generally at this time of evening, Luna liked to be out stargazing, so Ginny didn’t expect her in the common room.

All the better.

They climbed the staircase to the top and Ginny reached out to knock on the door, waiting for the question.

When the door spoke in its light, musical voice, Hermione jumped.  Ginny stifled a giggle so they could hear its words.

“What is the most powerful force on earth?”

Hermione’s eyebrows slammed together; clearly, this wasn’t what she had been expecting.  “The most powerful force?” she said.  “Does it mean a magical force, or a scientific one, or a conceptual one?”

“That is up for interpretation,” replied the door, and Hermione flinched again.

This time Ginny did laugh.  “I’ve heard Ravenclaws talk about this door before,” she said.  “It’s less about giving the right answer and more about giving a good one, they say.”

“Less about giving the right answer?” repeated Hermione.  “But that doesn’t . . . actually, I suppose it . . . Could you repeat the question?”  Ginny could only assume that the last bit was addressed to the door.

“What is the most powerful force on earth?” said the door obligingly.

Hermione began to pace.  “I’d want to say magic,” she murmured – clearly she was in her own world at his point – “but that’s not always effective, and it can be influenced – by emotion!  Some kind of conceptual . . .” she trailed off into silence for a moment, and Ginny started to worry that she wouldn’t be able to answer the question.

And then Hermione brought a hand up and smacked her forehead so hard that it echoed.  “Oh, I’m so stupid!” she cried.  “This is a Dumbledore question.  A Harry question.”  Before Ginny could even get distracted by Harry’s name, Hermione had whipped around again and faced the door.  “Love,” she said confidently, “because it can affect all the other forces.”

There was a moment of silence, and Ginny was about to get worried, but then the door replied.  “Debatable,” it said.  “Very good.”  And it swung open to let them in.

“Debatable?” Hermione repeated, but Ginny wasn’t paying attention – she was too busy using the _useful_ part of the door and entering the common room.

Once she was in, she gazed around, taking it all in.  A few people were sitting at little tables, reading or scribbling away at essays.  Some were sitting on their own; others were sitting in small groups, seemingly intent on conversation.  Some were curled up in chairs or sprawled on the floor – but almost everyone who wasn’t talking was holding a book.

Ginny still wasn’t entirely sure what exactly to do – so she decided to just make it up as she went along.  That, as she’d learned from Fred and George, was one of the best ways to plan.  So she followed her instincts.  “Is Luna Lovegood here?” she asked the room at large.

A few people looked up, some even putting down their books, but others didn’t even raise their heads.  “No,” mumbled a boy off to her left, whom she hadn’t even seen until this moment.

She patted her pocket, making sure her wand was safely stowed there and within reach.  “Good,” she said.

“Good?”  A couple more people looked up.  A few others gave her sideways glances without fully looking away from their work.  But it was the same person as before who spoke.  “Weren’t you looking for her?”

“No.”  She rested her hands on her hips – with her right hand conveniently close to the pocket containing her wand.  “I was looking for all of you.”

“All of us?”  Everyone there was looking up now, except for the people sitting alone and studying.  They were still acting as though they couldn’t hear the commotion.  Who knew – maybe they couldn’t.  “Who exactly do you mean?”

He was feigning ignorance – or maybe he wasn’t faking at all, but Ginny was so angry with this whole group of people that she didn’t care.  How dare they not know what she was in there to accuse them of; how dare they not think twice about what they were doing to Luna as though she were so beneath their notice?  They probably didn’t know what she was talking about because they didn’t feel a single twinge of guilt about taking Luna’s things and hiding them, because they didn’t feel bad at _all_ about bullying a girl like Luna, who’d never done anything unkind to anyone, just because she was _different_ –

“So you mean you don’t know _anything_ about who’s been stealing her stuff?  So you mean it’s someone from another House who’s clever enough to sneak into your common room and take her _shoes and socks_ so her feet will _freeze_ in the winter?”  Ginny felt herself standing up straighter and straighter; her hands had flown from her hips and were waving ferociously in the air.  She was attracting attention, but she didn’t care.  They deserved to be shouted at.

To their credit (if only slightly), a few of the people watching her had the grace to look a bit ashamed.  Not that that was enough.  Ginny glared.

“Oh,” someone muttered.  “That.”

“Don’t you feel _guilty_?” tried Ginny.  “What kind of heartless people _are_ you?”

“We never meant to do any harm,” murmured someone else, off to the side.

Now Hermione broke in.  “Aren’t Ravenclaws supposed to be intelligent?” she said scathingly.  “What do you think happens to people who don’t have any shoes or socks in the winter?  Don’t you know what frostbite is?  Either you genuinely did mean harm, or Ravenclaw House is too boastful about its members.”

A couple of people flinched; Ginny, though, turned to Hermione with an approving nod.  _Thanks_ , she mouthed, and Hermione gave her a small smile in return.

Ginny’s rage was turning into vicious satisfaction at the sight of the shame that was finally beginning to show on everyone’s faces.  Another small voice spoke up.  “We just didn’t . . .”

“Think?” Hermione finished for him.  “That much is obvious.”

The two Gryffindor girls stood there, watching smugly as the Ravenclaws slowly crumpled in on themselves.  A girl (she looked about a year younger than Ginny) was the first to step forward.  “You’re right,” she said bravely.  “We were cruel, and worse than that we were stupid in our cruelty.”  She flicked her wand, and two pairs of socks materialized in front of her – socks with such brightly-colored, zigzag patterns that they could only belong to Luna.  “I’ll give these back to her.”

Everyone stood there for another few minutes, and then the boy who had first responded to them waved his as well, sending a pair of boots zooming from deep within a bookshelf to land with the socks.  “Same,” he said, maybe not having the courage to say everything that she had.

And thus the flow began.  Out of the ten or so people standing there, half of the group had something to return.  The other five did not return anything– whether because they were too ashamed to admit it, too cruel to give the things back, or simply hadn’t stolen anything in the first place, Ginny didn’t know.  But she supposed not _everyone_ would have taken something from Luna.

In the end, there was a small pile on the floor of socks, shoes, and an odd winter hat.  Ginny surveyed it, relieved.  She didn’t know whether Luna really had some trick of the mind to make her not feel the cold, but either way Ginny would no longer have to walk with her and watch her toes freeze.

“Great,” she said coldly, surveying the pile of clothing.  “I would say thanks, but if you hadn’t stolen those in the first place you wouldn’t need to be thanked for returning them.  Now, do I need to take these and give them to her tomorrow, or can I trust you to put them with her other things without hiding them again?”

The group of Ravenclaws flinched again.  But, “You can trust us,” muttered one of the five who hadn’t given anything back.

“I hope so,” said Ginny without softening her voice.  “I’m sure I’ll see you all around someday.  Come on, Hermione.”

And with Hermione at her side, she marched out through the now-silent door and headed back down to the Gryffindor common room.  As she walked she reached into her pocket where her wand was stowed, marveling that she hadn’t needed to use it even once.

“Do you suppose it’s a hope for human nature that they gave the things back right away?” asked Hermione before they reached the Fat Lady’s portrait.

“I would,” considered Ginny, “except I’m pretty sure it’s more than canceled out by the fact that they took them in the first place.”

Hermione sighed.  “You have a point.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Ginny met Luna after breakfast, as usual, so they could walk to Transfiguration together.  She had an extra pair of socks stowed in her pocket just in case, but she hoped she wouldn’t need them.

“Good morning, Ginny!” called Luna as she approached from her table.  Her hair was pulled up in a knot that was already falling apart (which was all just as well, considering that her wand was the stick holding it all together).  Her robes were askew and her orange radish earrings were hanging lopsided – and her bright, zigzag-patterned socks were visible over the tops of her warm boots.

Ginny suddenly felt warmer inside, too.  “Good morning!” she responded, falling into step beside Luna.  “I see you have some of your stuff back.”

“Oh, it’s no use pretending you don’t know,” Luna assured her right away.  “I thought it was nargles at first; then Cely Jackson told me that you came into the common room last night and told everyone to give my things back.”

“I guess the game is up.”  Ginny was suddenly worried.  Luna wasn’t the sort to let her pride get in the way of anything.  But maybe Ginny had unwittingly overstepped when she’d gone into her common room . . . She’d done it all because she cared for Luna; surely Luna would understand that.  “I hope you’re not angry, but your feet were freezing” –

The embrace caught her off guard.  Before she realized it, Luna’s arms were around her and her wand (slipping almost free of her hair) was poking Ginny in the temple.  As it was only the back end, Ginny didn’t try too hard to extricate herself.  Luna gave wonderful hugs anyway, embraces that held nothing back.

“It would be silly if I were angry,” she whispered against the side of Ginny’s head.  “Nargles are nowhere near as kind as you are.”

And while it wasn’t the last time anyone stole from Luna Lovegood, she never went barefoot in winter again – unless she wanted to.

 


End file.
